


Boxes

by GloriaVictoria



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Moving In Together, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GloriaVictoria/pseuds/GloriaVictoria
Summary: Hermann and Newt finally move in together, and it's everything they could have wanted, expected and hoped. Except for the boxes. Goddamn, that's a lot of boxes. A bunch of short scenes in some semblance of chronological order dealing with their first weeks living together.





	Boxes

**Author's Note:**

> I just moved into a new apartment last week, and I found myself one afternoon just sitting around, looking at all the boxes and feeling intensely overwhelmed. This came from that feeling.

Newton Geiszler moved into his shared apartment with Hermann Gottlieb on the thirteenth of June, a week after Hermann's 46th birthday. The summer rain held off just long enough for them to make it inside with their belongings, but not quite long enough to avoid a good dousing. Newt made a joke about winning the annual Geneva Wet T-Shirt contest, and Hermann laughed under his breath, rolling his eyes while simultaneously thinking to himself that nowadays, Newt might have a decent shot.  
  
When they entered the apartment, Hermann watched Newt's eyes widen. Shao Industries had his entire apartment shipped to them, and combined with the things he'd left behind, Newt had amassed a fairly sizable collection. Newt moved further inside, skimming his hand over the top of one of the stacks of boxes, loudly whistling through his teeth.  
  
"Damn. We've got our work cut out for us, huh?" Hermann moved behind him and gave him a reassuring pat on the back.  
  
"Don't worry, Newton. We have all the time in the world."  
  
"Surprised to hear you say that, Mr. Alphanumerical, Color-Coordinating--"  
  
"That's Doctor to you." Hermann replied with a smile that made Newt's heart do a backflip.

Pretty nice digs for a war criminal.” A warning glare from Hermann cut the rest of that thought short.

“The PPDC felt it best to furnish two war _heroes_ with accommodations befitting their service. I asked for something small, out in the country away from the city limits. I think they felt relieved; they'd prepared to spare no expense.” Hermann smirked, eliciting a snicker from Newt.

“So basically you had them by the balls. Hot. So, uh...where do we start?" Newt asked, scratching his tousled hair and gazing around at the towers of boxes and bags that littered the floor. Hermann shrugged.  
  
"We start wherever you'd like. There's no rush."  
  
Newt nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip. Hermann could see by the look in his eyes that the task ahead of them intimidated Newton. He reached over and gently took Newt's hand, squeezing his fingers, his palm sweating.  
  
"Newton. It's alright. You're home now."

“Doesn't really feel like one.” Newt replied with a shaky laugh, and Hermann pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Then let's get to making it one, together.”  
  
***  
  
The next morning, Hermann woke early and started a pot of coffee. Their snug kitchen barely had room to walk, what with all the boxes stacked around the tile floor, and maneuvering through them with a cane proved challenging. He yawned as the coffee percolated, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He loved that he didn't have to walk all the way down a hall and two flights of stairs just to get something to eat. Come to think of it, now that he'd been away, he didn't miss the PPDC life -- not a bit. He felt quite content in the knowledge he'd never put his hands on another Kaiju entrail or Breach prediction model ever again.  
  
The sun filtered in gently through the window over the sink, casting a pinkish-orange glow over the entire room. The coffee finished, hissing and giving a tinny grunt as it cut off the flow of water. He poured a cup and held it for a moment between his long fingers, closing his eyes and focusing on the heat. It nearly burned him, but he didn't flinch away. The sensation felt oddly grounding, normalizing -- he remembered a time where a burn on his finger mattered much more, in the grand scheme of things. He remembered when he didn't know the feeling of a shattered limb, or hands around his neck.  
  
He finally tore himself away from the kitchen and shuffled his way into their bedroom. Newt still slept in the warm embrace of their queen mattress, arm slung over the side of the mattress and his legs curled up to his chest. The pillowcase, damp with drool, had slid off the pillow and dangled halfway, nearly touching the floor. His glasses sat askew on his face, and his phone hung precariously from Newt's fingers. Since he'd returned from Tokyo, Newton had made a habit of staying up far too late on his phone, reading articles or playing mobile games, or sometimes just scrolling mindlessly through his news feed.  
  
Hermann knew why. He feared sleep. He knew, because for a long time, Hermann had too. He'd spent countless nights after Newt left, reading and rereading old books, reviewing notes from years ago to "refresh his memory", even pace the floor of his room until he leg refused to budge any further. Hermann had dreams of Newt's death -- Otachi consuming him, Jaegers crushing him, the Pond headset fusing to his head and his skin crackling with blue light. Sometimes, he watched himself push Newt into the Breach itself, watch his breath bubble from his lips in a silent, drowned scream.  
  
"Mmm... Hey, babe." A sleepy smile and a croaky voice; Newt rose from the bed slowly and yawned.  
  
"Good morning, my dear." He answered, handing him his coffee. “Sleep well?”  
  
***  
  
"You think one of these days, some dude will show up at our door and try to kill me?" Newt asked abruptly as Hermann was elbow deep in a box of winter sweaters. “You know, like Agent 47 or Jack Ryan or some shit?”  
  
"Newton, for God's sake. Why would you ask something like that?" He replied, pushing a stray curl form his eyes. Hermann hadn't trimmed his hair since they'd left the PPDC, and Newt loved it. God, the way those tiny curls wound around his face...  
  
"Well, y'know. I just think maybe someone might get the bright idea to assassinate my ass. Haha, ass-ass-inate."  
  
"Newton, that isn't funny in the least." Hermann frowned and placed the sweaters on the upper shelf of their walk-in closet. Newt chuckled wryly.  
  
"Isn't it?" He answered quietly, fingering a pair of skinny jeans. "Rockstars get the gun sometimes. John Lennon got murdered by one of his fans. Dimebag Darrell. There's gotta be more--" Hermann moved to Newt and cradled his face in his hands.  
  
"Enough. Nobody wants to kill you, you silly man." Newt smiled, his eyes hazy and filling with tears.  
  
"Well, you're wrong on one count." Hermann blinked as his mind worked through what Newt had just said, then pulled Newt into an embrace so tight it took his breath away. He'd forgotten Hermann's strength.  
  
"Stop talking this way. You deserve to live. Don't you ever think otherwise, do you understand me?" Hermann pulled away and gestured to the boxes, never pulling his eyes away from Newt's. "All of this? It means absolutely nothing to me without you in it."  
  
Newt stared at Hermann with a look somewhere between contentment and disbelief. How did he manage to get so lucky? After all these years and all the abuse and neglect, how could Hermann consciously choose to make a fuck-up like Newt Geiszler the only star in his sky?  
  
He decided he'd figure it out after he pushed Hermann into a nearby pile of jackets and kissed the life out of him.  
  
***  
  
Night fell, and by then they'd made it through perhaps a dozen boxes. Their work went slow; Hermann could only lift so many boxes, and Newt wanted to sift through everything. Hermann allowed him that. He knew that Newton hadn't seen many of these objects for years, and perhaps touching them, smelling them, remembering their importance would help him heal.  
  
When they finally called it quits, Newton used the last of his concentration to hook up their entertainment center -- a modest 45-inch TV, some game systems that had gathered dust for years, a headset and some speakers. While he managed that, Hermann took a peek at Newton's film collection.  
  
Unsurprisingly, he'd amassed a ridiculous number of movies, some of them even on VHS, but most of them on somewhat less defunct Blu-Rays and DVDs. The variety and scope of his collection, however, *did* surprise Hermann a great deal. In addition to the obvious items -- Godzilla, magical girl anime, and the entire Mad Max quadrilogy -- he noticed a number of classic, almost normal films as well. He owned a copy of Casablanca in steel book, a special edition of The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and an original set of Star Wars VHS tapes. Shoved in between were CDs stored in jewel cases: bootlegged films with their names scribbled in Newton's chicken scratch.  
  
"Goodness, Newton. You have quite the menagerie." Newt popped his head up from where he'd been digging through his vinyl records.  
  
"What, the movies? Yeah, dude. Love 'em. Almost got my seventh Ph.D in Film Studies but then I joined the Academy." Hermann nodded thoughtfully, fingering a couple of the cases.  
  
"Would you...like to watch a film tonight?" Newt's eyes widened in surprise.  
  
"For real? You'd do that with me?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Sorry, it's just..." Newt scratched his head with a bemused expression on his face. "It's just last time, you said you hated watching stuff with me."  
  
"If I remember correctly, last time we watched _American Pie: Band Camp_ ."  
  
"Fair point.” Newt shot up suddenly and tore through the box in front of Hermann. "I got it, dude! Let's watch _Alien_ ! It's a classic!"  
  
"Hm. A rather unassuming name." Hermann tapped his chin.  
  
"Naaah, man. It's killer. It's got everything! Pregnancy metaphors, phallic imagery, Sigourney Weaver in a spacesuit..."  
  
"Well, that certainly sounds...titillating." Newt snorted.  
  
"Yeah, I know. Sigourney's not really your speed. A strapping John Hurt covered in blood and spaghetti might hit your sweet spot though." Hermann grimaced.  
  
"Where exactly does the alien factor into this film?"  
  
"Yeah, honestly if we want maximum alien action, we should watch the sequel." Newt waggled his eyebrows. "It's called _Aliens_ ."  
  
Hermann rolled his eyes. "Of course it is."    
  
"Let's just watch both! Double feature!" As Newt scrambled to the television, Hermann rose and made his way to the kitchen, pulling a large bowl out of a half-emptied box of kitchen supplies. They hadn't gone grocery shopping since moving to Geneva, but Hermann had packed a small cache of snacks so they wouldn't starve in the meantime. He pulled out a bag of cheddar popcorn, poured its contents into the bowl, and grabbed a couple sodas before heading back into the living room. Newt sat on the couch, patting the cushion.  
  
"You look excited." Hermann smiled and sat the snacks down on the table, pressing a kiss to Newton's hair. "I'm glad."  
  
"Here, get under the blanket with me, dude. I wanna get all up on that bony body." He murmured as he cuddled close to Hermann, nestling the bowl of popcorn on his stomach.  
  
Hermann didn't hate the movie, ham-handed metaphors aside. He enjoyed it, but he loved the feeling of Newton against his body more, loved listening to him blab over the movie, pointing out every bit of secret trivia he knew. He loved the warmth passing between them, the way Newt missed Hermann's mouth while trying to feed him popcorn. For the first time in twenty years, Hermann felt perfectly content.  
  
It did help that, for what it was worth, Newt had been right about John Hurt.  
  
***  
  
Hermann woke up that night to an ache in his hip; he'd allowed Newton to lay on his legs for too long on the couch. In the moment he'd loved the contact, but by morning it would work up to a deep throb, and he'd surely regret it then. Before he could roll over and fall back to sleep, he heard the sound of scissors snipping down the hall. He turned to find Newton missing from his spot in the bed.  
  
"What on Earth are you up to at this hour?" Hermann grumbled to himself, feeling that familiar irritation bubbling up in his gut. He huffed and slung his legs over the side of the bed, taking his cane and shuffling his way down the hall. At least he could grab his painkillers on his way back to bed.  
  
When he turned the corner, Hermann saw Newton sitting in the middle of the living room floor, which he'd strewn with clothes of all kinds. Though Newt had his back to him, Hermann could see him slicing through a pair of trousers, and hear him muttering furiously under his breath. He quietly moved closer, thankful for the carpet muffling his steps and the clicking of his cane."  
  
"J-jesus... How'd I think these were a good idea? Haha..." Newt sniffled and sat down the scissors, opting to rip the trousers in half with his hands. "Fuck this shit." His voice turned cold and angry as he ground out his words through clenched teeth. "Fuck _all_ this shit." Hermann almost said something about the wastefulness of destroying perfectly good clothing, but as he moved to stand behind Newton, he noticed the fine cut and cloth of them, and the Chinese tags on the empty boxes.  
  
"Newton." Newt jumped, dropping the trousers as he turned to face Hermann. Even in the dim light of the lamp Newt had switched on, Hermann could tell he'd been crying. His eyes shone with tears, and he could see one traveling down his cheek. He looked haunted, miserable.  
  
"G-go back to bed, Hermann. I'm fine. Just taking care of some trash, I dunno why they sent this shit here." Hermann tilted his head to the side and smiled gently.  
  
"With all due respect, I beg to differ--"  
  
"Then keep begging." Newt snapped as he took the scissors into his hands, reaching for a dark silk shirt. "I've got shit to do, and you're distracting--" Newt paused and held the shirt in his hands. "They didn't--"  
  
"Didn't what?" Hermann took a closer look at the shirt and noticed the black chain draped between the corners of the collar; the PPDC had brought Newton in wearing that shirt. Before he could say anything, Newt let out a horrible sound, somewhere between a sob and a scream.  
  
" _Fuck!!_ " He shrieked and threw the shirt across the room before gripping his head in his hands. "I can't--I can't do this, Hermann... It's never gonna go away. All this bullshit they made me say and think and do... I'm not even real anymore..." As Newt wept, Hermann leaned his cane against a stack of boxes and got on his knees with some difficulty.  
  
"Newton...come here." Hermann pulled Newt back against his chest and pressed a kiss to his temple.  
  
"Hermann--"  
  
"Hush. Just stop, and listen to me." Hermann stroked Newt's hair gently with his long fingers until his body began to relax. "You're not gone. You're here with me, safe."  
  
"No... Dammit, Hermann, you don't understand." Newt pulled away and  scrambled around to face Hermann, his eyes wide and brows furrowed. "They--they took everything from me." Newton choked back a sob as he ground the words out. "Everything I lived for, everything I ever loved, they made me turn away from. They made me _like_ hating what made me a fucking human being. You know how fucked up that feels? It's like hating the god-damned air you breathe." He shuddered, and Hermann took his hands, running his thumbs over the tops as they sat in silence.  
  
"I can't pretend that I know how to get back all they stole from you, Newton." Hermann began, feeling his own throat close up and the corners of his eyes sting. "I wish I knew how. I hate them for what they've done, but... I love you more."  
  
"Hermann, you don't deserve this. You ought to--"  
  
"It's not about what you or I deserve, Newton. It's about what we want, and I want you. What do _you_ want?" Newt stared into Hermann's face for a long time before throwing his arms around his neck. As he cried, Hermann held him and petted his hair until he grew calm and still, pain in his leg be damned.  
  
***  
  
The pair managed to arrange their apartment into something presentable after a good two weeks of cleaning, unpacking and what Newton called "intense discussion". All that remained was to make a decision about the small patio area outside. It wasn't huge -- certainly not fit for entertaining guests or having parties -- but it did have a little patch of earth for planting and a quaint fence. Newt wanted to string it with Christmas lights and install a jacuzzi, but Hermann would have none of that. Hermann thought it'd make a better garden, but Newt complained that he'd end up doing all the hard labor, which got him banished from the bedroom for the evening. They'd both forgotten about it after they had finished the rest of the apartment, and Hermann would have let it rest had Newton not come in to their study and blindfolded him without warning.  
  
"Ack! Newton, for God's sake! Am I being kidnapped?!" He screeched, and Newt laughed as he tied the fabric behind Hermann's head.  
  
"Chill *out*, dude. Sheesh. You call *me* the drama queen?"  
  
"Remove this blindfold immediately or explain yourself." Hermann retorted.  
  
"Man, such a killjoy. I've got a surprise for you! Don't you wanna see it?" Newt teased in a sing-song voice, pressing a kiss to Hermann's cheek.  
  
"I do hope it's a pleasant one this time." Hermann grumbled, remembering all of the times Newt had "surprised" him over the years. As exasperating as they'd been,  Hermann couldn't help but think on them somewhat fondly -- vestiges of a simpler time.  
  
"Listen, you're gonna love it." Newt reassured him as he pressed Hermann's cane into his hand. Newt guided Hermann carefully out of the study, hand on his waist. "So... You know the patio?"  
  
"Yes, Newton. I know of the patio. God, what did you do?" Hermann sighed. "Please tell me there's still grass."  
  
"There is! Geez, man..." Newt went quiet for a moment and Hermann regretted using such an accusing tone. "I just finally figured out a good use for it. Come on, almost there. Just turn the corner aaaand...here we go." Hermann felt the cool outside air and shivered as Newton untied the blindfold. "Check it out." As Hermann opened his eyes, his heart shot into his throat.  
  
Newton had, essentially, arranged the patio area into a makeshift observatory, complete with the crown jewel, a Celestron VXI telescope with brass fixtures. Around it Newton had arranged two comfortable lawn chairs, with a warm blanket folded in each seat. A small refrigerator and microwave sat together against the wall of the apartment, with an extension cord leading in through the door. He _had_ strung lights around the fence, tiny white ones that twinkled here and there, casting a cozy, magical light over everything.  
  
"Raleigh came over after a meeting at HQ and helped with it while you were at that meeting in Geneva the other day. I thought... I dunno, you've made this whole thing about me. All you've done since Tokyo is take care of _my_ needs. This part's gonna be about you." Hermann swallowed hard, still speechless. "I know you love all this shit. Space and planets and stars. I'm sure you've seen it all, but maybe you can, uh... Show me. I'd like that."  
  
"Newton..." Hermann's bottom lip quivered and he stepped into the grass, running his hand over the long barrel of the telescope. "This couldn't have been cheap."  
  
"Hermann, I'm loaded. Even after the lawsuit." Newt snickered. "I gotta spend that fascist money on something good, and you're the best--" Newt paused, his voice cracking around his words. "The best thing I could think of." Hermann turned back toward Newt and closed the space between them, pressing his lips to Newton's forehead and holding him close.  
  
"You shouldn't have." He murmured into Newt's hair.  
  
"Yeah, well... I've done plenty of things that I shouldn't have, but... you're happy, right?"  
  
"Incandescently." Hermann smiled and tilted Newt's head up, pressing a kiss to his lips. For that moment, and he hoped every moment after, their lives had ceased their endless revolution around their worries and cares, around others’ expectations and needs. They had their own universe now, just the two of them, in a little apartment filled with empty boxes.


End file.
